Reflection for Sunday – September 14, 2025
Readings: Numbers 21:4-9; Philippians 2:6-11; John 3:13-17
Preacher: Deirdre McKiernan Hetzler
Anyone who has ever gotten tired of eating leftovers after just a day or two might sympathize with the Israelites.
They had been wandering in the desert for forty years, with manna for breakfast and quail for dinner. Day in and day out, the same food. They were weary of the manna, of the wandering, of the uncertainty. And in their weariness, they longed for the rich food of Egypt, forgetting, of course, that Egypt also meant slavery and oppression.
So they complained against God and against Moses. Then came the poisonous serpents. And in their suffering, they realized their sin and begged Moses to intercede.
God’s solution was unique but not immediate relief. Instead, God told Moses to lift up a bronze serpent, so that those who looked upon it might live. Healing came not by escape from their suffering, but by gazing upon a sign that reminded them of both their sin and God’s mercy.
Jesus connects that experience with his own saving action. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
Today, on this feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, we honor that saving mystery. We honor the Cross, not as a symbol of punishment or defeat, but as the very means of our salvation. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son that [we] might have eternal life…”
Think about that! What immense, unconditional love! What astounding humility! As St. Paul reminds us: “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave…”
Love and humility. Two great virtues at the heart of today’s readings. Personified by our God, in whose image we ourselves are created.
And when love and humility are lived out, they look like this:
- A woman visiting her mother in an assisted living facility discovers that the bus driver from her childhood now lives there, too. She doesn’t stop at a polite hello—she chooses to sit and visit, even when her own mother is not around.
- A nineteen-year-old in Texas sees his undocumented parents and four American citizen siblings deported, including his eleven-year-old sister, gravely ill and without access to needed medication. He gives up his dream of college, takes two menial jobs, in order to send the medicine his sister needs to survive.
This is love. This is humility. This is the Cross lived out.
But often we also see the opposite. Pope Francis, Pope Leo and many faith leaders have spoken out forcefully against the cruel treatment of immigrants and refugees in our country. Yet too often, our public policy reflects not compassion, or faith values, but fear and exclusion. Too often, we settle for the tired patterns of the world instead of choosing the transforming pattern of Christ.
Like the Israelites, we grow weary of the journey. We grow tired of injustice, division, and even of trying to make a difference. But today’s feast asks us: Where are we called to lift high the Cross in our own time? To spread the light of Christ in our world? Where are we being stretched to extend our empathy beyond our own comfort zone, our own silo, our own tribe?
Jesus himself was challenged to broaden his vision when the Syro-Phoenician woman begged for her daughter’s healing. Are we willing to let our hearts be stretched, as his was?
Where are we called to love even those we find unlovable?
The Cross of Christ challenges us to live differently. To turn from self-interest to service, to move from fear to compassion, from indifference to solidarity.
And here is the good news: even when we fail, even when we falter, the Cross still stands. The Cross bears witness to a God who never gives up on us. To a God whose love is unconditional, whose mercy is wider than we can imagine.
So let us lift high the Cross. Let us gaze upon it for healing. And let us live by it, walking in the way of love, humility, and empathy that Jesus himself revealed.
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